


Stories From The Bunker: Abigail Singer

by Charlie_E_Winchester



Series: Stories From The Bunker [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_E_Winchester/pseuds/Charlie_E_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long time since Dean and Cas have heard from Jodi Mills. And one phone call changes everything Dean thought he knew about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stories From The Bunker: Abigail Singer

"It's breakfast time" Castiel shouted, popping into the boys' hallway and then the girls'. He's always careful not to go too close to their rooms. Dean has talked about how important it is these kids feel like they have their own space, and while Cas doesn't always understand, he knows Dean has a way with these kids. 

The smell of eggs began to waft out of the kitchen as Cas popped back downstairs. Charlie and Jo were already setting the table; ten places that morning. Cas couldn't believe how many kids they now had. When they first opened their home, he and Dean often went months without having any children other than their own living here. Now, it seemed like the word has finally spread. It had become a rare occasion that only he, Dean, and the girls were at the table. 

Dean came out with a big platter of eggs, placing it in the centre of the table. A slight tug on his shirt brought his gaze down to Jo, his youngest daughter. Her blonde hair had lost almost all its baby curls, now long and wavy.

"Daddy, did you make bacon?" she asked.

Dean glanced over at his other daughter, Charlie, and winked. Charlie shared his smile, her eyes sparkling just like Dean's, and returned to putting out forks. Dean picked Jo up and spun her around before placing her on his hip. 

"Did I make bacon? Well, why don't you ask Poppa?" He smiled over at Cas, the playful twinkle in his eye, as he leaned in and whispered in Jo's ear. "I think Poppa might have eaten it all." His smile widened when Jo began pouting at her other father. 

"Poppa," she frowned, "why didn't you steal any for me?" 

Dean laughed, his big hearty laugh that shakes his whole body, and carried Jo into the kitchen. "Don't worry baby girl," he kissed her on the nose, "I hid some away just for you." Charlie, obviously listening, followed closely behind them. 

Cas watched as his family disappeared around the corner. It had been almost eight years since Charlie had been born, and he was still sometimes shocked they had a family at all. He smiled as the patter of his children's feet disappeared into the kitchen. 

The kids began to pour down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and yawning widely. Cas shook himself out of his daydream and began to serve the eggs and toast, and smiling to himself as Dean returned from the kitchen, the plate in his hands piled high with fresh-cooked bacon.

As all the kids began to dive into their food, small pockets of conversations began to form around the table. Cas leaned his head onto Dean's shoulder. He liked these moments, very loud but emotionally quiet and peaceful. He liked having his family. Dean kissed him on the forehead before leaning his own head down. When he spoke, his deep voice was almost like a whisper. "What's up, Cas?"

Before Cas could answer, he heard Dean's personal cell ring. Dean stiffened and Cas lifted his head up. Dean excused himself from the table, looking darkly at his phone. The other kids hadn't been fazed, continuing their happy chatter. Cas knew the call couldn't be good; only hunters had that phone number.

When Dean didn't return after a few minutes, Cas also excused himself. He saw Charlie give him a look and waved her off, trying to smile. Though their daughter was only eight, she was already proving to be quite perceptive. She was sometimes lifetimes older than the other eight year olds they had under their roof.

Dean was pacing back and forth in the library, holding his phone to his forehead and clearly deep in thought. Cas waited patiently; Dean didn't like to be touched or spoken to when he was like this.

Finally, Dean turned to him and started waving his arms in frustration. "Do you know who that was?" Cas shook his head. He had learned the theory behind rhetorical questions a long time ago, but often still found himself compelled to give some form of an answer.

Dean continued to pace angrily back and forth. "That was Jodi Mills. Told me she was going to be bringing us her _daughter_."

Cas gave Dean a puzzled look. "I don't understand. Alex must be in her 20s by now." He cocked his head to the side, thinking. "And you told me her first child turned into," Cas paused to find the right words, "a zombie?"

Dean shook his head, looking down at his feet. "The kid's name is Abigail Singer, Cas." Dean looked up at his husband, clearly begging him to understand.

Cas moved closer and put his arms around Dean, allowing his husband to rest his head on Cas' shoulder. Cas spoke softly. "Why is the girl coming here? Jodi has never sent Alex here before."

Dean shook his head and sighed deeply into Cas' embrace. Cas understood; they had lost Bobby a long time ago, but for Dean it would always feel like yesterday. Dean had been openly thinking about Bobby a lot lately, particularly since he had slowly taken on the roles Bobby had played for him; mentor, co-ordinator of hunters, father. Cas grasped his husband tightly, trying to reassure him.

Finally, Dean tapped his head lightly against Cas' shoulder before pulling  himself away and waving his phone again. "Apparently, Jodi still goes on occasional hunting trips with Donna. She heard through the grapevine about us, and says her daughter is becoming a handful." He sighed deeply again.  "Jodi says she can't bring her on the road, can't leave her at home. So she wants to bring her here."

Cas nodded. "Well, that is what we said we'd do. It's not surprising the word is finally getting out among the hunters. This is a safe haven for their children."

Dean didn't appear to be listening. He was off in his own world, pacing again. Cas thought he understood; Dean had just felt the weight of a bomb drop on him. Bobby Singer had fathered a child. Until now, Dean and Sam had always been the closest thing Bobby ever had to children.

Finally, Dean turned to his husband, still gesturing with his cell phone. "I just, I can't believe it. Fifteen years she's kept this from me. Fifteen years Cas!" Dean turned and kicked the table leg, shaking everything on it. "I could have been there for that kid, Cas. She should have told me!"

A small voice piped up behind them. "Daddy?"

Dean dropped his arms quickly, turning and smiling at his daughter lovingly. "Yes Charlie?"

Charlie rocked back and forth on her heels. Cas marvelled at how self-aware she already was; Charlie knew she'd come into a serious conversation. "Daddy, can we have more toast?"  

Dean nodded, his voice soft. "Yeah sweetie. Yeah, I'll come make some more right now."

Charlie smiled and twirled around, running back to the kitchen. Cas watched her go until he felt his husband's hand slip into his.

"Cas, I don't know what I'm going to do when this girl gets here."

Cas turned to his husband and did his best to be reassuring, caressing his hand and kissing him softly. "Dean, we will protect that child. Just like we do the rest of them." His husband nodded again, and Cas squeezed his hand gently. "Come on, let's go look after our family."

Dean nodded, and they both returned to the kitchen.

*

In the hours leading up to Jodi's arrival, Dean spent the majority of his time on the phone with Sam. They were swapping notes, trying to figure out how Jodi had managed to keep her second daughter hidden from them for so long. Though he would never admit it to his husband, Cas knew it was because the boys had spent so long wrapped up in their own lives. Until they had settled on retirement, it had always been easy for them to forget other hunters even existed.

When a knock was finally heard on the bunker door, Jo rushed excitedly to answer it. Following his daughter up the stairs, Dean picked her up, growling playfully. "Come here you!" He tickled her as they approached the door and her peals of laughter echoed through the entryway.

Standing at the door, Dean looked at Jo seriously. "Now sweetie, what did we say about people coming into the house?"

Jo put her finger on Dean's nose, mimicking Cas' 'boop.' "Not unless they know the secret knock."

Dean smiled sweetly. "That's my girl. Now, are you ready?"

Jo nodded excitedly as Dean held her up to the door. She knocked the pattern her fathers had taught her, two short raps, three quick taps, and a final long bang. She looked back at Dean, smiling proudly after she'd finished. He tickled her again and she squealed with delight.

"Okay sweetie, so do you know what we do next?"

Jo nodded and leaned her ear onto the door, her eyes sparkling with delight. On the other side of the door, the responsive knock - one bang, two short raps, one bang, and two more short raps - responded. Jo's eyes lit up and she nodded at Dean.

He smiled back at his daughter, and opened the door to see Jodi Mills looking expectantly at him.

"Well I'll be damned. Dean Winchester. Never thought I'd hear so much laughter coming from _your_ home." She smiled broadly and gave him a warm one-armed hug. She gestured to the young girl beside her. "Dean Winchester, meet Abigail Singer."

Dean, still holding Jo in his arms, gave Abigail an awkward left-handed handshake. "Nice to meet you, Abigail. This," he turned and nuzzled his nose into Jo's face quickly until she beamed again. "is my youngest daughter Jo."

Jodi's jaw went slack. "Daughter?" she repeated. "Dean Winchester, you _have_ been keeping me out of the loop!" She turned and smiled at Jo.

"How old are you sweetie?"

"Six!" Jo beamed.

Jodi gave Dean a raised, matronly eyebrow. "Six years, Dean?"

"Charlie is eight!" Jo shouted, clearly proud of herself and eager for more attention.

Dean held up his free hand. "Listen Jodi, before you get all upset at me, let's get everyone inside, and then maybe we can talk a little bit."

Jodi glanced back at her sheriff's truck. "Dean, I really need to get back to Donna."

Dean put Jo down and whispered for her to go play. Straightening up, he gestured Jodi and Abigail into the bunker. His face was stern. "No Jodi, you're going to come in so we can talk."

*

Scotch in their hands, Jodi and Dean sat across from each other. Cas was still off making sure the kids were finishing their schoolwork. Abigail had retreated to her room and not come out since arriving.

Dean sipped his drink and stared Jodi down. She tipped her glass at him before taking a deep swig. "You first Dean."

Dean shrugged. "We retired. Got married. Had a couple kids. Pretty white-picket fence if you ask me." He put his drink down and stared across the table at his old friend. "You're the one bringing me the daughter of a man whose been dead for almost fifteen years."

Jodi leaned into Dean's gaze. He was reminded how much he admired this woman; she was never one to be intimidated.  She'd always been one of the few people able to pull rank on him. "Excuse me, white picket fence my ass kid. You, Sam,  and Cas retired from hunting when the rest of us were taking bets on when you were going to die _next._ You got married _to an angel._ And the two of you somehow have kids that just scream _Winchester._ " She took another deep drink of the scotch as she leaned back in her seat. "Don't bullshit me, boy."

Dean chuckled. No one had called him 'boy' in a long time. He had to admit, he had missed Jodi. "How's Alex?" he asked.

Jodi shrugged. "Dating some military guy. I think she's partially doing it to piss me off. But she also knows how to stay safe. With a mom like me, I don't blame her."

"And a past like hers," Dean added.

Jodi shot him a glare. "My daughter has more than repented for that Dean, and you of all people should know the importance of moving on from our past sins."

Dean gestured with his hand towards the open hallway. "So what about that daughter? What the hell did you think was going to happen when you dropped that bombshell on me? You want to talk about moving on? How about explaining _her_?"

"Jesus Dean, can you think about someone other than yourself for once?" Jodi glanced down the hall to make sure none of the children had wandered in, and did her best to lower her voice. Instead, it came out as an angry growl. "I have been trying to keep that girl out of this life. I didn't want her to -" Jodi paused, and did her best to collect herself. "- I don't want her to end up like Bobby did." She finished her drink and stood up.

Dean stood too, towering over Jodi. "Listen Jodi, forget my feelings. Does she even _know_?"

Jodi rolled her eyes. "She knows enough Dean. If you have kids now, you should get it. They come first, before anything." She paused, and sighed. "My job as a mother was always to give that girl a better life. And you know how hard that is now."

"Jodi - "

"Dean, shut up. Just take care of my daughter."

She turned to leave, and saw Cas had appeared in the doorway. Jodi softened at the sight of him. She hugged Cas warmly, and he responded in kind. "Congratulations on your beautiful family Cas."

She turned back to Dean and gave him a soft look. "Be gentle with her Dean. I'll see you guys in a few days."

 

*

Dean and Cas watched over their brood fondly. The kids had just finished watching Harry Potter, and immediately run around the house collecting all their mops and brooms. More than Dean was aware they owned. They were playing 'Quidditch' in the open garage. 

As the kids chased each other around, shouting words and throwing balls at each other, Dean turned to his husband. "She still hasn't come out of her room yet." 

"I know. You should go and talk to her Dean." 

"What the hell am I going to talk to her about Cas?" 

Cas shot him a firm look. He didn't like it when his husband cursed within earshot of the children. "Dean, she's in a strange place. With strange people. She's old enough to know where her mother went. Just go and talk to her. She's not the first one to not want to come out." 

Dean rolled his eyes, grumbled something inaudible about feelings always being his department and left. 

He went back to the kitchen and began to prepare his usual peace offering. There were occasionally kids who resented being left here, or kids terrified of being in such a strange place. He'd perfected this meal over the years. Bowl of homemade soup and a three-cheese grilled cheese sandwich. Baked, not pan-fried. It was comfort food; the kids always took well to it. 

He knocked lightly on Abigail's door. She called out the door was unlocked, and Dean opened the door slowly with one hand while balancing the food tray carefully on the other. He put the tray lightly on the desk and sat down in the chair. Abigail didn't move to get up from her bed, and continued to stare at Dean as he sat down. 

Dean gestured at the tray. "House rules; you're allowed to miss one meal a week. After this, you sit at the table with the rest of the family."

Abigail didn’t say anything to him. Only stared Dean down, her arms folded firmly across her chest. She did not move to receive the meal. Dean held her gaze for a moment before shrugging. 

“Fine, you don’t want to talk to me. That’s okay too. You don’t have to talk. But you do have to eat.” He picked up the tray from the desk and placed it before her on the bed. “I don’t let the younger kids eat in bed, but I think you’re old enough to not make a mess.” 

Abigail didn’t speak, but reached gingerly for the grilled cheese. Dean smiled to himself; they always went for the grilled cheese first. He sat back in the desk chair, watching Abigail eat. After she’d nibbled quickly away at the first quarter of the sandwich, she looked up at him. 

“I’m not a child. You don’t have to sit here to make sure I eat dinner.” 

Dean chuckled. “Not why I’m sitting here, kiddo.” 

Abigail sipped the soup gingerly. “So what are you waiting for then?” 

“You, mostly.” 

Abigail looked up from her soup. Dean couldn’t help but proudly notice how fast she was wolfing it down; he’d perfected that soup over the years. “Look, Dean, I know who you are. I’m not here for some special bonding moment. I’m just here because Mom didn’t trust me home alone and Alex couldn’t take me.” 

Dean leaned forward in his chair. “You know who I am, huh? Hard to believe, since this is the first time I’ve heard of you.” 

Abigail chuckled dryly to herself. “Yeah, forgive my mom for wanting to keep me away from the two idiots who got my Dad shot.” 

Dean sat up coldly. “Your mom is one of my favourite people, Abigail. And I am happy to have you in my home. But don’t you –“ his voice dropped lower, growing hoarse, “- don’t you ever try to pretend you know what happened that night.” 

He stood up and made to leave the room. “Enjoy your soup. I expect to see you at breakfast in the morning.” He slammed the door sharply behind him. 

Cas stood around the corner, his arms folded across his chest. “Well that didn’t sound like it went well Dean.” 

Dean brushed past his husband. “Drop it, Cas.” 

*

Dean woke in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat. He felt Cas’ leg draped across him, his soft breath in the crook of Dean’s neck. But his nightmare wasn’t fading. Wiggling himself out from underneath his husband, Dean threw a shirt and shorts on and left the room. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to wake in the night. He had a ritual. Shoot a couple rounds. Deep breathing. Maybe a beer. Then back to bed. As the years went on, the nightmares happened less often. But they still happened. 

The firing range was deep in the compound. Far away from where the kids slept. He loaded up his favourite pistol and put on a pair of headphones. Metallica. Old school comfort music. 

He pressed the button to line the first target up and rapidly unloaded a full clip. His body barely moved, but his target showed an equal number of shots to the head and to the heart. He put down the gun and pressed the button again to call the target closer. His accuracy wasn't bad for this time of the night; he was just leaning a little left on his headshots. He bopped his head along to the music and pressed the button to pull up the next target. Reloading his clip, he breathed deeply. Just as he was about to take aim, he heard a crash behind him. 

Pistol still in hand, Dean whipped around. He came face to face with Abigail, who cowered upon seeing the pistol. Dean dropped his hand quickly, clicking the safety back on before tucking the gun in his waistband. He pulled out his headphones and stared down at his newest house guest. 

"Abigail! What the hell do you think you're doing down here?" 

She looked at her feet, scuffing her shoes on the floor. "I couldn't sleep. I heard you come down here." 

Dean continued to stare in shock at her. Six hours ago this girl had accused him of killing her father, and now she had followed him to his gun range. Abigail finally looked up at him and rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"I wanted to come down to talk to you about him, okay?" She huffed, and tossed her brown hair absent-mindedly. "Whatever, it was stupid. I'll go back upstairs." 

Dean's eyes softened as he looked down on her. "Hey, it doesn't sound stupid. Come on." He gestured to the gun cage and Abigail followed him. "Your mom let you shoot one yet?" 

Abigail shrugged. "Small stuff. Nothing with any sort of kick to it." 

Dean chuckled and unlocked the gate. He pulled out one of the newer shotguns and handed it to Abigail. "Well at some point, you're going to need to get used to one of these. They're great for firing off rocksalt." 

He gestured to the range and Abigail walked tentatively over. She looked over her shoulder at Dean as he called a target into place. "You sure I'm allowed to do this?" 

Dean grabbed a pair of safety muffs for her and slapped them over her ears dramatically. "As long as you're safe about it." As Abigail lifted the shotgun to aim, Dean carefully guided her arms into position around the barrel, and pulled the shotgun closer to her shoulder. She looked up at him and he mimed tucking the gun tightly into the shoulder. She nodded in understanding. 

Her first two shots went wide, and she pulled her earmuffs off in frustration. "This is stupid. Give me a real gun." 

Dean chuckled. "This is a real gun kid. You're just not used to sighting with a shotgun. You have to keep yourself closer to the barrel." He took the shotgun from her and demonstrated, keeping his cheek almost flush with the stock of the gun. "It's just about changing your line of sight." 

Abigail looked up at him. "Did my Dad teach you how to do this?" 

Dean did his best not to stiffen at the mention of Bobby. He put the shotgun down, clicking its safety back on. "Some of it. I learned a lot from my Dad. He was the one who raised us to be hunters. Bobby taught me how to throw a wicked fast pitch though." He grinned slightly at the memory. 

Abigail turned around and began pacing back and forth behind Dean. "You know, this is why it's not fair, my Mom dropping me off here. I have to look at you and think of all the time you got to spend with him that I didn't. I have to see his stupid face in your pictures around this place. I have to see all the books around here and wonder which ones are his. Ones he never got to teach me how to read." She stopped pacing and turned to Dean. 

Dean hung his head. "Abigail, I know how you feel. I know how hard it is to lose a parent." He looked up at her, compassion in his eyes. "I know how hard it is to feel like you didn't know them the way you should. But I also know how it feels to let other people into your life." He tried to smile and clapped his hands together. "Now, let's try this again." He picked up the shotgun and held it up for Abigail to take. 

She stood across at him for a moment. She tossed her hair and rolled her eyes again. "Fine. Show me."  

*

Abigail sipped her beer gingerly and laughed as Dean retold the story of Bobby's kiss with Crowley. They had migrated to the kitchen after Abigail had started to open up to Dean. It had taken three rounds with the shotgun before she stopped saying 'whatever.' It had taken up to the second round of beers before he heard her laugh. 

"So there was really a picture of this?" Her eyes sparkled with glee as Dean nodded. 

"It was the greatest picture _ever_. Bobby's face was scrunched up with displeasure, and there's Crowley, a little smile to the camera he's holding to the two of them." Dean chuckled to himself as he took another sip of beer. "Man, that feels like an eternity ago." 

"From what Mom tells me, at least a few end-of-the-world's ago." 

Dean chuckled again. "Yeah, yeah, that's probably very true." He saw the look on her face and quickly changed the subject. "Has your Mom told you the story of when Bobby tried to convince her he was the FBI?" 

Abigail nodded, her face brightening a little. "Yes, that one she loves to tell." She looked at Dean sadly. "But I still hate that you get to have all these memories of him, Dean, and I all get are stories."

Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he could even think of a way to respond. It was true that Bobby wasn’t his Dad, but damn if he hadn’t been a father to him. 

“It is because Dean had the pleasure of knowing your father that he can tell you all these stories, Abigail.” Cas was standing in the kitchen door frame, staring down at the two of them. “Many stories he’s never even shared with your mother. You should feel grateful to have this time with him.” 

Dean turned and smiled at his husband, silently thanking him. Cas, however, frowned back. 

“I don’t know what you two have been up to, but it’s far too late at night for it to continue. Abigail, you need to go to bed. And I expect to see you at the breakfast table in the morning.” 

Abigail nodded silently. She gave a small smile to Dean and retreated to her room. Cas took her seat at the table. He held up Abigail’s beer bottle and continued to frown at Dean. 

“You know, when I said you should talk to her, I did not mean treat her like she’s your drinking buddy.” 

“Oh come on Cas, you know I’m not like that. She found me in the shooting range; I couldn’t sleep.” 

“And she asked you for a beer?” 

"No. Nothing like that. I showed her how to shoot the shotgun.” Dean gave Cas his impish grin and took the final swigs from his beer. “The beer was just to celebrate her finally hitting the damn target.” 

“Dean…” 

“Come on, Cas. That girl was finally smiling at me. Let’s call a win a win and just go to bed, okay?” 

Cas shook his head as his husband picked up the empty beer bottle and took them away. “Fine,” he muttered, “but I’m tucking you into bed.” 

*

Dean woke up the next morning to his bright-faced daughter standing over him. “Dad, it’s time to make breakfast!” she shouted gleefully. 

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Dean did his best to smile at Jo. “Um, that’s right sweetie. But Daddy just woke up. Can you give me a few minutes?” Realizing he was still tightly wrapped in the blankets Cas had swaddled around him, Dean glanced to his husband's empty side of the bed. _Of course_ , Dean thought, _he always leaves me like this._ He turned back to his daughter. “Or, how about this sweetie. Do you remember how to help Daddy get out of bed?” 

Jo nodded excitedly and went to work on the tightly wrapped blankets. Dean rolled his eyes. In his late 40s and his daughter was unwrapping him from the swaddling his husband forced upon him every time his nightmares kept him up. Jo finished loosening the blankets and grinned at Dean. 

"Daddy, you're free!" 

He sat up and hugged her. "Thank you sweetie. Now go downstairs and I'll meet you in the kitchen, okay?" Jo nodded in understanding and skipped happily out of the room. 

When Dean arrived in the kitchen, he was surprised to see neither of his daughters waiting for him.  It was pancakes day, and they both knew it. He knew that was half the reason Jo had woke him up. In the distance, he heard a bark and Jo's squealing giggle.  

Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and went off in search of the noise. He found the source of the barking - his brother's new puppy - surrounded by a gaggle of children. Charlie looked up at him with a giant grin on her face. 

"Hi Dad! Meet Maddie. Uncle Sam brought her to play." 

Sam poked his head around the corner, holding a book and smiling. "Sorry Dean. I've got a hunter working what we think is a Rugaru case, and I realized all the good books on them are still here in the library. " 

Dean nodded silently, taking a deep drink of his coffee,  and jerked his thumb over at the puppy. It was barely visible through the group of children squealing with delight. "And the new dog? Is she kid-proof?" 

Sam huffed at his brother and came fully around the corner. Dean hated when his brother stood so close during an argument; he didn't need to be reminded of their height difference. "No Dean, I'm an idiot and I brought a dog that's going to bite my nieces' hands." 

Dean rolled his eyes. "It's not _my_ kids I'm worried about, it's everyone else's." 

"Just look Dean. She's loving it." 

It was true; Maddie was laying full on her back, her stomach being rubbed by two kids, while Charlie dangled fingers over her mouth and Maddie nipped playfully at them. 

"Charlie, you be careful sweetie." 

"Don't worry Dad. Maddie's a good girl. She won't hurt me." 

Sam gave his brother a second look. Dean rolled his eyes again. "Don't look at me like that; just because the eight year old says it doesn't make it true." 

*

By the afternoon, even Abigail was enjoying playing with the dog. Dean and Sam were cleaning up after lunch, and Cas was entertaining some of the younger children by skipping between their rooms. It was a fun game they all loved to play; they won if they were able to tag him before he blipped somewhere else. Dean referred it to as "angel tag" when he first explained it to Sam. Sam had laughed and said it sounded more like an angelic version of capture the flag.

"You wouldn't believe this kid, Sam. By the end of the night she was handling the kick of that shotgun like a pro." 

"Bobby's genes at work, I guess." 

"I mean, I wish she'd hit the target a little more on the nose, but sure." 

Sam laughed as they loaded the dishwasher. "You ever think your house is getting a little too full dude? Do you even have beds left?" 

It was Dean's turn to chuckle. "I don't think I'd ever think it was too many. We put bunk beds in a few of the rooms last year. And a lot of the kids are only here for a week at a time; their parents drop them off before a job and pick them up on their way back." Dean gave his brother a wicked grin. "You know me, I'll never turn a good kid away." 

"So what's the story with that kid? Did Jodi tell you why she never mentioned her before?" 

Dean kept his eyes on the pot he was scrubbing. "Jodi made an excellent point that was difficult to argue with. Charlie's already eight and we never told Jodi about her." 

"Yeah, but dude there's a reason for that."

Dean shrugged. "Maybe Jodi had a good reason. Maybe she was worried some monsters would be perfectly happy with the next generation of Singer, in lieu of getting back at Bobby."

Sam nodded solemnly. It was true for a lot of the kids here; second generation hunters were in danger just for carrying their families DNA. 

As they finished cleaning the kitchen, Dean clapped his brother on the back. "Come on, I'm sure Abigail would love a good "when I was your age" story from Uncle Sam." He chuckled at his own joke. "All the other kids seem to just _love_ them." 

While Sam wandered through the house looking for Abigail, Dean checked in with his husband. Cas was now reading the first Harry Potter book to the younger kids. The circle of girls and boys around him were rapt with attention. 

Dean rubbed his husband's back as he leaned in to whisper. "Um, love, why don't you read them something a little bit more modern?" 

Cas turned his head and stared down his husband indignantly. "Dean, Harry Potter is a classic!" 

The children began to complain that Dean had interrupted their story, and he held up his hands in defeat, backing out of the room slowly. "Dumbledore _dies_!" he hissed under his breath after her left the room. 

When he caught up with his brother, Sam looked perplexed. "Dean, I've looked all around the bunker, and I can't find Abigail anywhere." 

Dean shrugged and walked to the library, where the older children were working on their homework. "I wouldn't worry. The kids find places to hide in here that even I didn't know existed." 

Dean walked into the room quietly, doing his best not to disturb the other kids. He knelt down beside his oldest daughter. "Charlie, sweetie, did you happen to see where Abigail went?" 

Charlie nodded, still scribbling away on her math homework. "Maddie was whining so Abigail said she was going to take her for a walk." 

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Dean kissed his daughter on the top of her head. "Thanks baby," he whispered. She nodded in understanding and continued with her homework while Dean and Sam quickly left the room. Dean walked past his brother and continued down the hall to his gun locker. 

Without a word, he unlocked the gate and passed Sam his knife and pistol. Dean made all the hunters lock up their weapons when they came into the house, even his brother. Sam took the weapons silently, and gave Dean a look  as his brother armed himself heavily. Before Sam could ask a question, Dean had locked the gate again and was out the door, leading the way to the bunker's back entrance. The one that led into the woods. Dean talked hurriedly to his brother as they walked. 

"Couple years ago a military garrison set up shop a few miles out. Cas and I didn't think it was that big of a deal; this place practically looks abandoned from the outside. The only problem is that in the last few months they've decided the woods outside are a great training ground for the kids who are still wet behind the ears. They release something into the woods - werewolf, vampire, shifter - and let the newbies track and kill it." 

Sam's concern grew. "So Jodi's daughter could be out there with a monster?" 

Dean shook his head, bracing his arm against the heavy door to the bunker. "Worse. She's probably out there with a trigger-happy military kid desperate to prove himself. The kind of kid that will shoot at any sign of movement." 

*

Dean motioned Sam to be quiet as they neared another clearing. They hadn't heard anything since leaving the bunker a half hour ago, and Dean was beginning to worry. Sam motioned to him that they hadn't checked east yet, but Dean waved him off, motioning back that the river was east, and Abigail would never have ventured that far. 

Sam angrily stalked over to his brother, crouching down next to him. He began whispering furiously. "Abigail has my _dog_ Dean, which means if she's been out here for a while Maddie probably dragged her off towards water." 

Dean exhaled heavily, but nodded in understanding, and both men crept away from the clearing and deeper into the forest. Sam turned his head slightly to his brother. "You know Jodi's going to actually kill us dead if anything happens to her daughter, right?" 

Dean nodded grimly. "Sam, I am fully aware of how terrified I am of Jodi Mills." 

Sam glanced around them as they walked deeper into the forest. "So why haven't you and Cas run these guys out yet? Pull a little scare tactic and freak them out enough to leave. From what you said, they're releasing monsters pretty close to home." 

Dean shrugged. "We didn't think we needed to reveal ourselves. Military's not the group you piss off and then just walk away from, ya know?" 

A shuffling of branches caught the brothers' attention. Silently, they both turned, guns out. They watched cautiously as Abigail came stumbling out of the bushes,  looking around wildly. Sam lowered his gun immediately. 

"Jesus Abigail, what the hell were you thinking?" 

Abigail hung her head. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Can we leave now? This place is scary." 

Sam nodded and looked around. "Where's Maddie? Did she run off?" Abigail nodded and pointed behind her. "She got excited when we got to the river and took off. I've been walking around trying to find her." 

Sam looked at his brother. Dean's gun was still taut in his grip, his eyes glancing around the forest for further signs of movement. Without looking at his brother, Dean spoke quietly. "Go get your damn dog. Keep an eye out though." Nodding in understanding, Sam took off in the direction Abigail had pointed, his large frame quickly disappearing in the thickness of the underbrush.  Dean looked back to Abigail. 

"You hurt?" 

She shook her head and shrugged. "I just want to go home." 

Dean nodded and gestured with his gun back in the direction of the bunker. "Alright, let's get you out of here. Start walking kiddo." 

Abigail stood rooted to the spot. She raised her head and continued to look sadly at Dean. "I'm really scared. I heard people in the forest earlier. Can I have a gun?" 

"No you can't have a gun." Dean looked at her in shock. "With your aim, you're more likely to hit me than anything else. _Can I have a gun._ Jesus." He reached into his jacket and pulled out one of his knives. "Here, you can have this." He looked firmly at her. "Try not to stab me with it." 

As Abigail reached for the blade, Dean heard a rustling behind him. He dropped the knife to the ground and whirled around, un-holstering and cocking his pistol. He watched as his brother emerged from the forest, his dog and Abigail in tow. 

"Dean!" 

He knew that shout. That was his brother's _look behind you, you idiot_ shout. _Shit_. 

As he turned himself around again, Dean heard Abigail shriek. Her hand was red from where she had tried to pick up the knife on the ground. Waving her hand wildly, she backed up and shrieked again. Dean watched as her eyes flashed yellow. 

"Son of a bitch." 

A shot rang over his head, exploding in the tree behind him. He turned to see Abigail - the real Abigail - holding a shotgun out and reloading. 

"Can you try not to shoot me in the process?!" Dean yelled out, dropping to the ground as she re-fired. He crawled away quickly as rocksalt and wood exploded over his head. Hands protectively covering his neck, Dean twisted around to face the real Abigail. 

"Abigail! Aim the fucking gun." 

On the third shot, the shifter took the rocksalt square against her chest and stumbled backwards. Dean seized his opportunity. Pushing himself up, he pulled out his machete. Facing off against the shifter, he twisted the machete loosely in his hand. 

The shifter reoriented herself and cracked her neck. "I should have just stolen that dog when I saw her." She glanced over at Abigail and Maddie, rolling her eyes. "Stupid dog." 

"Uh oh," Dean shook his finger in the shifter's face. "Better not insult the dog. You see that big guy over there?" He paused, and flashed Sam a grin. "He doesn't like when you say bad things about his pooch." 

Twisting the machete loosely in his hands, Dean turned his body into its old fighting stance. "Me, on the other hand, I don't like when someone threatens my kids."  

In a swift motion, Dean kicked the shifter in her cut, causing her to double over. He stood over her and swung down with the machete fiercely, slicing the head off the creature. The body collapsed to the ground, the head rolling slowly away along the forest floor. Dean stood over the body, breathing heavily, adrenaline still pumping through him. "Well fuck me," he muttered, sliding the machete back into its holster.  

Dean finally turned to his brother. "I guess that whole 'no one knows we're here' plan is shot to hell." He then turned his attention to Abigail. 

"Thanks for not shooting my face off kid." 

Abigail shrugged, her face oddly blank, the shotgun still hanging loosely by her side. "I had an okay teacher." 

Dean rolled his eyes as he walked over. "That's just what I need in my life, another smart ass." He raised a finger to his brother before Sam could speak. 

"Now," Dean reached gingerly for the shotgun, "why don't you give this back to me before you accidentally shoot a foot off." 

Abigail let go of the shotgun, her face still blank. "So that's it? She's dead?" 

Dean shrugged, kicking the body of the shifter. "Looks like it. Probably a young one; they normally put up more of a fight than that." He gestured back in the direction of the bunker. "Come on, let's go before someone comes looking for her."

Sam clapped Abigail on the shoulder as they all began the slow trek back to the bunker. "And Abigail, next time you want to take my dog for a walk, just don't, okay?" 

Dean chuckled to himself as he led the way back home. 

*

"Well Hiya Sam, didn't know you were in town." Jodi smiled as she walked down the front steps of the bunker. Charlie bounded excitedly in front of her, racing out of the room. 

Sam waved as he walked between the bookshelves. "Just doing some research for a hunter. Ended up being more complicated than I first thought."

Charlie's small voice rang out down the hallway. "Daddy! Poppa! Abby's mom is here!" 

Jodi smiled as her daughter came around the corner. "How'd everything go?" 

Abigail shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "It was fine Mom." 

Dean followed her around the corner, being led by Charlie's small hand. "Don't worry Jodi, we all behaved ourselves." 

He hugged Abigail tightly. "Take care of yourself kiddo." 

Abigail gave him a small smile. "Thanks Dean. Next time, I want to try the crossbow." 

Jodi raised her eyebrow and gave Dean a mothering look she hadn't given him in a long time. 

Dean chuckled. "Oh come on Jodi, it was just some fun. We could have let her do research with Sam." 

Jodi shook her head and put her shoulder around her daughter, steering her out of the room. "Come on sweetie. Let's get you away from these yahoos." 

Abigail rested her head on her mother's arm. "Thanks Mom. Can I come back next time you go visit Aunt Donna?" 

Jodi flashed a look behind her at Dean and Sam, both grinning impishly. "I'll think about it." 


End file.
